Tuesday, December 18, 2012

Bird House & Barn

... a sad, and frustrating, Farm Report

This is the chica we named Zoe. Before five, this morning, something squeezed into the shark cage and ended her life. She cried out, and Geoff ran to the garden, I followed close behind, but we were too late.

I'm sorry. No one wants to read any more bad news. I hesitate to share another sad pet loss story. We've been hit hard this year, and well... we're trying to figure this out. Seems like whenever we feel confident that all is well and secure, a new predator assault is launched, and we find ourselves, once again, mourning, and puzzling. The reason I am sharing the story, this time, is because I hope my chicken farming, urban and rural, comrades can learn something from our mistakes. So, while this is not a post I am happy to write, I do hope it can serve to inform, and perhaps save a life.

This is "the shark cage." Back when our first concern was coyotes, we were proud of this strong, practical, secure monstrosity. We figured what it lacked in idyllic farm beauty, it made up for in sheer shark proof engineering.

We were wrong.
The spacing of the wiring of the original panels is too large. Way too large.
We learned this the hard way, when Kamen was attacked by a bobcat through the bars. As large as that cat was, and the boys saw him doing it, the cat had no problem fishing his hungry paws into those spaces and shredding Kamen.

We added chicken wire, a skirt of it all the way around the chicken's coop, and we paved the coop, so nothing could dig under and in. And, once again, we breathed a sigh of relief, confident that we outsmarted the predators, and we did... for about ten months.

Last month something smaller than the bobcat, we think it was a raccoon, pulled Zelda through the bars. Probably the same bandit that took away our two rabbits.Two pet rabbits, two chicas lost... I am still trying to come to terms with all of this. We added new remedies, and measures, and felt certain, again, that we were secure... but last night came the new twist.

This attack was from inside the closed, covered, reinforced shark cage. It did not tunnel under, it did not cut through anything. As near as we can tell, it was small enough to squeeze between the steel bars, a narrow, tight, two inch gap, and whatever it was, it was big enough to behead a hen. After examining everything, standing in the predawn drizzle, and trying to manage my emotions, too, I went to the Internet.

Fellow chicken keepers, I hope you never have this issue... trying to figure what might be attacking your coop, taking your hens, but I did find a useful tool at Backyard Chickens. They have a list of predators, with signs and indications, that may help you figure out your enemy. As I scrolled down the list of suspects I was surprised to see who I could rule out, and the further down the list I went, the more confused I became... I was running out of suspects. Then I came upon "Weasel." What a match: "Weasel: Bites on neck found, will attack only a few or a lot, bluish coloration of skin about head and under wings. Sometimes run in family packs. Occasionally a faint skunk odor may be evident. Weasels will enter a one-inch opening. Hard to trap." Even the "faint skunk odor," was a clue we had detected.

"Weasels will enter a one-inch opening..." this is critical, frustrating news. Our shark cage is not secure, and it won't be until we have it practically shrink wrapped in quarter-inch hardware cloth. Also, I will be adding more pavers around the perimeter of our chicken coop.

Our five hens, Betty, Kamen, Shebot, Little Debbie, and Lucky Penny will sleep in a dog crate, in the barn, until the new and improved weasel-proof shark cage is updated and fully operational.

Oh no! Sorry to hear of the loss. One thing about urban (or suburban) homesteading is that it is a constant learning process. As hard as it is to report these things publicly, I'm glad you do. I had no idea weasels were even a thing in California! Wise decisions to make and execute a Plan B until the coop is more secure. Good luck.

Oh no - not another poor chica. So sorry to hear Natalie. I've been wanting to get chickens for several years now but after hearing all of your trials and the cleverness of these predators I think I've been talked out of it for a while. I fear we'd have a heck of a time keeping them alive.

Your poor family - hope you get it sorted out. Maybe they'll have to sleep in the garage at night?

I'm so sorry. I hate when I lose one of my girls to a predator. But like you I always try to adjust my approach. I've never had a weasel attack, but ive read that they are ferocious. Thanks for sharing your knowledge.

I've had critters trying to dig under my chicken yard - I put chicken wire half under the ground inside and half up the "cage". I'm not sure we have weasels, but I'll have to check on that. Our main predators are skunks and racoons - not counting mtn lions.(((Hugs)))Yvette

We are sorry for you and the chickas! We hope that you can get that chicka house fixed. We used to live in an apartment that was in the woods and we had mountain lions raiding the garbage cans in the wee hours!

Predator losses are hard on many levels. There's so many "what ifs" and guilt. I know. I'm not familiar with predators in SoCal, but the weasel family is large. Around here, we have mink, which can flatten themselves to nothing and squeeze through the smallest hole. This is why, regardless of how good my fencing looks, my hens are closed up at night inside of a coop with a concrete floor. Sadly, we up the protection only after we have the losses.Terry at HenCam.com

Followers

Time Travel

Liberty, 2013

Chirp-Chirp-Chirp BirdHouse Notes

Sorry. I am practicing freedom of expression:

Wholly shite! I just saw our share of the travel expense for robotics, and I am peeling myself off the floor from sticker shock. In 2 minutes I found 5 highly rated ABNB places where Maria and I could stay for 1/3 the rate. It's not that I am "cheap." It's that I am cheap and have no income, and hope to save for my golden years, or at least put one more kid through college. It's supposed to be inappropriate to talk about money, tacky, I know, but I think it's highly inappropriate to spend beyond my means, or pretend as if I can keep up with the Joneses.

*sigh*

It's not as though it's fatal, but I do feel nauseated.

March 20, 2019

1:29 pm

Instagram... lots of thought about that, and questions. I have the kind of questions about IG that I'd rather not ask aloud, because inevitably it would only demonstrate my insecurity. But here goes... why don't more users demonstrate a little more reciprocity, some like for like engagement, a bit of kindness, gratitude, or even genuine humility? Social media algorithms seem to go right for my jugular, or maybe only my ego.

Laugh out loud: a beautiful woman posted a selfie, with agonizing apologies for doing so, because in her words, "I never do this! I can't believe I am posting a selfie, but sometimes it's ok to be 'out there!'" I thought she was being so modest and humble, and it intrigued me, so I went to her page... and it was true: there were hardly any selfies on her wall, but there was not a single picture that didn't include her. Her entire IG was hundreds and hundreds, adding up to thousands, of pictures of her.

March 20, 2019

12:52 pm

Ten minutes ago I sat down with the intention of blogging. I frequently "intend" to blog. I fancy that I am taking a break, not broken-up. But, once again, I am derailed by something technical and my Google search is not yielding a solution. I sit here, increasingly aggravated, and my shoulder and neck begin to wince and whine, and I ask, "Why? Why pursue this? Is it out of habit? Certainly, by now, I must realize that this blog will not be my career, a literary accomplishment, noteworthy for..." never mind. My point becomes muddled, my thoughts self-deprecating. I miss keeping stories and details, adding to the memory book, and as I get older, I can truly appreciate the practical benefits of the reminders and place holders this blog has created... I will really want to kick myself if I don't continue writing down even small facts, that in years to come will make us smile, or help us keep records straight.

But. As I said... something in iPhoto won't talk to my phone and I can't import pictures. I am so behind. At least, that is how I feel, because I want to be caught up, I want to share all the happy things we have seen, or accomplished, our triumphs, and things we have conquered, tamed, or turned over. I don't feel like it's anything I am obliged to do, it's just what I wish, for my own sense of satisfaction... our pictures, and memories, jotted down and saved, for happiness sake. Sometimes, I feel a bit of relief thinking that as I have been away awhile, most people will have forgotten about Chikebbllog by now (however I spell it) and that I can slip back in and just go on and on about my favorite socks, and how the sweet peas are taking over, and not concern myself a bit that I never did write a book, or talk to Terry Gross.

Maybe I am relieved to not be blogging, because I hate the moment that, inevitably, arises when I feel compelled to share something of the accident, the one back in December. How can I help it? It clouds my head, still, and gives me nightmares, pain, anxiety, and a stutter. Not a very bad one, because I find that if I speak slowly, or not at all, it's not so noticeable. On Saturday, I cried half a day, because I was served another subpoena. It's "only" 2 different hearings/trials, but they keep changing the dates, and then comes a new subpoena. And do you know what troubles me? What will I wear? Because... "first impressions" and all that, and really, I cannot go dressed comfortably, as myself, in jeans and a t-shirt that says "Take a bus, you drunk fool." No. I will have to go and face her and her attorney, dressed as me, myself, and I am sorry to say that I will appear as a gray, fat, old woman, that flinches when doors slam, or cars honk. I would rather stay home.